Dangerous Obsessions
by L.Clearwater
Summary: Leah attracts the unwanted attention of a powerful admirer, one who will stop at nothing to make her his mate. As the stalker gets bolder the pack struggles to stay one step ahead of his dangerous obsession.
1. Prologue

**Author's Note:** Hey Twilight fans! This is my first story so go easy on me, but give me lots of reviews and let me know what you think. I have to thank Kobe Grace, my super awesome beta for helping me review my chapters and Leiaaa who has given me constant support, encouragement, and wonderful ideas. Thank you both so very much.

**"Love is as much of an object as an obsession, everybody wants it everybody seeks it, but few ever achieve it, those who do, will cherish it, be lost in it, and among all, will never...never forget it."--- Curtis Judalet **

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Prologue

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_Sam_

Nothing had prepared him for this.

He had composed himself on the ride over here, fixed his face to show absolutely no emotion, but this efforts dissipated into nothingness the instant that he saw her. His heart plummeted: there she lay, pale and motionless underneath thin, yellow sheets, covered in so much plaster and gauze that he barely recognized her. But he didn't have to see her face to know who it was. He could've been in a room full of people and still have been able to pick her out from the crowd. Whenever she was nearby, his heart clenched, stricken with the urge to — to just _touch_ her, to smell her, to taste her. Even now, after all these years, after all of the ways they had come to be separated, _that _was her effect on him.

These days, however, it wasn't as if she was ever in the same room as he was anymore. In fact, these days, she went out of her way to avoid him. Without missing a beat, he knew that it had been exactly three months, twelve days and eight hours since he'd last seen her. And every second that had passed since then was branded mercilessly onto his heart.

In horrified silence, he surveyed her body. Hot, bitter anger coursed though his veins as he noted the bruises and scratches that hadn't been obscured by bandage or brace. From what he'd learned, it was a miracle that she was even alive — hell, it was only because of her werewolf strength and regenerating abilities that she was still breathing. In all, she had four broken ribs, twelve different fractures in her left leg; her right arm was completely crushed, and her spine and brain had suffered several contusions. Yet despite her current state, those didn't even come close to being the worst of the injuries.

The son of a bitch had _bitten_ her.

It was that thought that gnawed at him, and the guilt ate at him like a parasite on rotted flesh. He should have kept a better eye on her. If he had, then maybe she would never have ended up here. The Leech Doctor had said that the best way to get rid of the poisonous venom was to give her several transfusions; nearly every able-bodied person in Forks had shown up to the Cullens' to donate. So had many from La Push, the superstitions and prejudices they'd grown up with pushed to the backs of their minds — there were other, more important things to deal with right now. One of their own was dying. The official story was that it was a car accident, the result of a drunk driver and a semi. The Cullens had even set up a crash site, complete with a MAC truck, an Audi Coup and the Clearwaters' minivan, to corroborate it. Those who'd seen the site said it looked like the worst car accident in the history of the entire Olympic Peninsula. And _she _was at the center of it.

Slowly, he made his way towards her, ignoring the glances that were sent his way. He wasn't welcome here —no one knew better than he did but he would not be deterred. The chairs at her bedside were taken up by her brother and mother, so when he approached, he knelt on the floor — an appropriate move, given his penitence and his reverence for her. Then, ignoring the growl coming from her brother's direction, he gently took her cold hand into his own warmers ones, careful of the gauze and tubes attached to her.

_You say you love her, _a nagging voice in his mind accused. _But look: all you've done is hurt her. _Normally, whenever he heard that voice, he paid it no mind, or he'd just tell it to shut up. Right now, though, he listened to it eagerly, finding an odd sense of comfort in its claims and accusations. That voice: for all it berated him, it was nonetheless tangible evidence — that his love for her was there; that it hadn't faded. That nothing, not even an imprint, could ever sway the hold she had on his heart.

But still…

What good was love, tangible or otherwise, if she was dying? And it was all his fault. Sure, everyone — her family, their friends, his pack — would blame her injuries on the bloodsucker that had bitten her, but no one knew about _his _mistake. They didn't know that the strongest, most beautiful woman in La Push was now lying in a hospital bed, fighting for her life, because of his lack of judgment. They didn't know how he had let his pride get in the way of saving the woman that he had loved— the woman that he _still_ loved, and always would. No, they didn't know a goddamned thing.

They didn't know how he had killed Leah Clearwater.


	2. Chapter One

**Author's Note:** A big thank you to all the readers who read, reviewed, and favorite _Dangerous Obsessions_. You guys sure know how to make a girl feel loved.

Thank you to Kobe Grace for agreeing to beta my writing and putting up with my horrible spelling, improper tenses, and outrageous grammar. Also thank you Leiaaa for your constant encouragement and support throughout the dark days of writer's block

Thank you Ozzie13, vinaduhhx3 and Cjfed 95 for PMing me with your input.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Twilight; if I did BD wouldn't have been such a disaster.

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Chapter 1

_**Leah**_

I could tell it was going to be a long night.

Embry and Quil were having a heated argument over who was hotter: Megan Fox or Jessica Alba. Boys — they had rocks for brains. That's precisely why I made them go back to school. Not that it was easy; I had a root canal less painful than getting four teenage werewolves to go back to school. Besides practically having to bribe school officials to take them back, I had to deal with the boys bitching and moaning throughout the entire re-admission process — they went as far as to mumble that _Sam_ never made them go to school, so why was I? It was only when I reminded them that Sam's pack was full of morons — and when I shot them my patented Leah Clearwater Death Glare — that they stopped their whining.

One would think a girl's job was done after that — I'd gotten them into school; now, all they had to do was stay there. But I'd forgotten one crucial factor: I was Leah Clearwater. Nothing _ever _goes as planned for me; nothing is easy or simple. So, instead of doing the kind of things girls my age normally do, like going out and having fun, I was stuck helping my pack mates with their homework, or kicking their asses for starting a food fight. (Which, they swore, wasn't their faults. Of course it wasn't.)

I stifled a yawn. I was bone tired; I'd taken all the late-night patrols from Monday through Thursday so that the guys would be ready for school in the morning. Not that it mattered; I still had to go by their places and wake them up. Lazy jerks. Usually, I didn't patrol on Fridays, but tonight, the Oh-So-Mighty Alpha wanted to talk and the best way to do that was to go wolf. Would it have killed the kid to just text us all so I could get a decent night's sleep?

And where was the ass-face, anyway? What, the idiot couldn't pry himself away from his child bride long enough to tell us what this super special meeting was all about? _Note to self_, I grumbled mentally, as I listened to Dumb and Dumber talk about whether they'd rather bang a robot or an invisible woman, _kick Alpha's ass when he gets here._

Finally, at around nine, Jacob ambled into the clearing where we were all waiting in human form. A yawn muffled the slew of profanities I wanted to throw at him — guess Operation Kick Alpha's Ass would have to wait until I'd gotten at least twelve hours of sleep.

"Hey, guys!" he greeted us cheerfully. Seeing his imprint always did that to him. I tried not to barf in my mouth while simultaneously giving him my famous glare. Either he didn't see it, or he just ignored it.

"All right," he began, putting on his serious face now, "I know things have been quiet since the Volturi left, but we still have to be on alert." I tried not to roll my eyes. Quiet was an understatement; nowadays, it was dead boring. There hadn't been a single supernatural occurrence in Forks or La Push in the last six months. "Now, I know most of you don't agree with me, but we have to be prepared at all times for an attack. That means actually doing our patrol — and _not _running around, chasing rabbits." Jacob shot a significant look at Quil, who quickly blushed. Like I said: rocks for brains.

"But that's not why I called you guys here," Jacob added. He paused for a moment, then slowly smiled again. "It's just… it's been a while since we all hung out together."

Okay. Yeah, it was all well and nice that Jacob wanted buddy-buddy time, but I hadn't had a good night's sleep all week. And yeah, it was still pretty early, but I didn't have the weekends free like he did — unlike the rest of them, I actually had a job. (Sure, it barely paid minimum wage, and my boss was a Nazi with bad breath, but it was still a job.)

Luckily, Jacob seemed to remember that, or he noticed my brother forcing me into an upright position.

"Maybe we can go cliff diving after you get off work tomorrow, Lee?" he suggested hopefully.

I nodded, too tired to do anything else, and besides, I was a bit touched that he missed us hanging out before school or work or just in general. Afterwards, I tuned out the excited voices of my pack mates and started for home. I didn't care what they planned, as long as I could go home and hit the sack for the next few hours.

"Hey, Lee, wait for me," my brother called out. He came up beside me and slung an arm over my shoulders.

"Yeah," said Jacob, as he and the others caught up with Seth and me. "We'll walk you home."

As sweet as it was whenever the pack started acting all protective of me, more often than not, it pissed me off. It was so annoying — like that time when this idiot customer at the Port Angeles Bar and Grill tried to grope me — I didn't even get the chance to kick his ass, considering I was trying to hold back a snarling Embry from ripping out the guy's throat. As if I couldn't hold my own. I _was_ Leah Clearwater, wasn't I? I didn't need four overprotective 'big' brothers looking after me; I could take care of myself

_Note to self number two,_ I mused; _talk to pack about leaving me the hell alone…_

I yawned again.

…_**after **__getting some sleep. Kill alpha, tell off pack, but only after getting some sleep._

The five of us made the quick walk to my modest, two-story home. My mother had moved in with Charlie soon after the Volturi left, leaving our house in La Push to Seth and me. Of course, now that we had our own place, Jake, Embry, and Quil were always over; they even slept over for most nights. _Shit_, I thought bleakly, as we approached my front door, _my life sucks. _Just to run through it again: I hardly got any sleep; my house was filled with infantile, hungry, teenage werewolves on a regular basis; and if that wasn't enough, my mother was dating the father of my sworn enemy. Did I mention that my life sucks —

Suddenly, I stiffened.

No sooner had I opened the front door than a whiff of that distinct, sickly-sweet stench blew out the opening. _Vampire_. My nose flared angrily, taking in more of the smell. Not a Cullen's, I realized. Inevitably, the annoying banter behind me ceased once the boys, too, caught on to the scent; in a second, they'd gone from laughing and joking around to cautious, wary silence. I glanced at them. They were standing as frozen as statues.

Finally, Jacob stepped past me and walked into the living room before me. His eyes scanned around for any movement, any sign of danger; when it was clear that there wasn't any, I followed his lead and walked inside, too. Confused, I trailed behind Jacob, sniffing the air to find where the scent was located. I could hear the others behind me; the air was thick with their anxiety and tension.

Quietly, we made our way up the stairs, letting our noses act as our guides. With every step we took, the scent grew stronger and stronger. Then, all of a sudden, Jacob stopped in his tracks, forcing me to bump into his back.

"What the hell — " I started crossly, and that's when I realized just _why_ he 'd stopped.

The smell was now so strong and potent that I was on the verge of gagging; it was clear that we had arrived at its source. I gasped quietly, my eyes widening in horror.

We were standing right in from of my room.

_The leech was in my room_

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	3. Chapter Two

**Author's Note: **Sorry for the late update. I had midterms this week and because I have been so busy with work and Fanfiction, I fell severally behind on school work. Next week is busy too with two papers due but don't worry after my schedule thins out some, I'm all yours.

Thank you so much Kobe Grace for beta-ing my writing. We both know that it would be crap otherwise. Thank you Leiaaa for your wonderful ideas and agreeing to help me with this story.

A big thank you to all the readers that reviewed, alerted and Favorite Dangerous Obsessions, or Favorite me. Thank you to all those who PMed me and encouraging me to get off my lazy ass and update.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Twilight or any of its characters.

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Chapter 2

_**Sam**_

The voices started when she left.

Actually, it was just _a_ voice; a condescending, know-it-all voice that constantly buzzed in his mind. The first time he heard it, it had uttered a name to him, one so familiar and still such a part of him that it wrenched his heart. _Leah, _the voice had whispered. _Leah. _The sound of it was like water dripping from a faucet: soft in its nature, but dominant against the quietness. _Leah. Leah. Leah._

Some might have called it his conscience. Others would have told him to seek help — and perhaps they both would have been right. Given the events that had taken place in his life over the past two years, there was no denying that he definitely needed therapy. Only, how would he go about doing that? It wasn't as if he could just go to any psychologist and open up about transforming into a werewolf, leaving his girlfriend of three years for her cousin with no explanation, simply because some mystical force predestined his soul mate, then have said _ex-_girlfriend turn into the only female wolf in the history of his tribe, only to leave his pack and join Jacob Black on his crusade to save the leeches. No; if he ever opened up about things like that, he'd be in a padded cell faster than you could say 'schizophrenia'.

Thus, it was decided: since he couldn't get professional help, he would try his damnedest to ignore the voice instead.

As if it were _just that easy_.

Then the images started. Sweet, impossible images that popped up in his mind at any given moment; they made him question everything he knew or had ever thought about imprinting. When it first happened, he was sitting in his kitchen; Emily was stirring something on the stove, mindlessly humming a tune. All of a sudden, he was back in a different time, and seeing a different girl: her belly swollen with his child, and she was smiling at him lovingly, piercing him with the gaze of her warm, hazel eyes. The moment had been fleeting, but it was enough to make him bolt out of his chair in complete shock. The move had made Emily gasp and look over at him with concern, but he hadn't been able to meet her eyes. He'd hurried from the room soon after that, fearing her questions.

The images persisted over the next few weeks. They were never the same: sometimes, it was of hot, summer nights spent holding hands and skinny-dipping on First Beach. Other times, it was of rainy mornings tucked away in bed, sharing each other's warmth, with the dog at the foot of the bed and their children snuggled close. All of them left him feeling weak and undone; more often than not, he found himself shaking his head, torn between trying to dislodge the images from his memory and trying desperately to hold onto them.

Eventually, Emily and the pack started to notice the changes in his behavior. In a matter of weeks he had become uncharacteristically edgy, irritable — he was an out-right monster whenever his patience was tested. He lashed out against anyone and everyone, even over the most trivial things. In time, the pack had learned the hard way to never mention or even think of _her_ name. _She _was a forbidden topic, and the pack knew that if they were ever caught discussing her, their alpha would raise hell. _That _was the kind of leader he had become.

_And it was all because of — _

Sam closed his eyes, and wrenched his mind back to the present.

He ignored the worried glances Emily kept throwing him, which further deepened his guilt. And she wasn't even mad at him! He felt like the world's greatest prick: last night, when they were making love, he'd been plagued with visions of _Leah_'s face. It was Leah's body he pictured writhing underneath him; it was her moans that he'd longed to hear; it was her voice that he'd heard cry out his name in passion. And it was _her _name that he shouted when he came.

He'd been unable to face Emily after that. Besides, what he could say?'Sorry'?'I didn't mean it'? Was he to lie right through his teeth and deny having imagined Leah's tall, curvy form wrapped around him, doing things with her that he'd never even dare to consider with Emily? Was he to say no, he wasn't dying to see Leah's face again; that no, he _didn't _want to have sex with her anymore, when even catching the slightest trace of her scent within the forest made him hard?

In truth, however, whatever he told his fiancé didn't matter — there wasn't anything he could do to reassure her, not with that voice in his head that chanted another woman's name like a mantra.

There was no doubt about it. Sam was _screwed_.

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